Rebound
by Lavender and Hay
Summary: Ann/Paul oneshot set around the time of One Night Stand.
1. Chapter 1

**I know this may be unpopular because it's an Ann/Paul oneshot, but here goes anyway. And the idea did receive some support on Tumblr, and in this Ann genuinely thinks Martin has cheated on her first. Set after/during One Night Stand before they know what really happened in Bruges.**

The first time she kisses him-stretches up to his height, her hands on his shoulders, and presses her lips briefly but firmly to his- he does not accept it unquestioningly. Standing there, with her in his sitting room, he is the one who hesitates. She has to admit that this surprises her a great deal; after all, hasn't he _always_ been suggesting, in so many words, that they do this? It doesn't hurt her, exactly, but it very much surprises her as his hands on her sides steady her balance a little and he looks at her curiously.

"Ann," he asks her carefully, "It's not that I'm not flattered. But are you sure that you know what you're doing?"

"I'm not on the rebound," she assures him quite earnestly.

"I'm not asking that," he tells her quietly, slowly, clearly, "Ann, I don't mind if this is just something quick for you. But I do mind if it's going to be something quick that you'll regret."

Tenderly, as she never imagined Paul would, he plants a quick kiss on her forehead and she feels her shoulders sag as she relaxes a little. She had not realised up until that moment just how wound up she'd been. As she moves, his hands grasp her sides a little more securely to support her.

"What about Martin?" he questions.

"What about him?" she asks, a little gruffly.

"What do you think?" he replies, "What is happening between you and him at the minute?"

"What do you think is happening?" she asks him, her sarcasm lacking its usual quirky cheer.

"As much as I hate to worsen my chances, do you not think there might have been some kind of misunderstanding?" he asks her.

"Do you think I haven't asked myself that?" she replies, "Over and over again, I've asked _him_ over and over again, and still he admits it, he doesn't chance his story at all, patchy as it is. He was unfaithful to me. I'm not sure what I can misunderstand about that."

"Alright," he tells her, sensing the agitation in her voice, smoothing his hands up and down her sides to calm her, "Alright."

There is a pause. She looks up into his face, watching his expression as he looks back at her.

"Anyway, I've always wondered what this would be like," she confesses.

"What?" he questions, wanting to hear her say it, wanting to make sure he has read her correctly.

"This," she tells him, running her hand down the front of his shirt, reaching up again, pressing her hand gently on the back of his neck and pressing his head down so that his lips could meet hers again, "This."

"Always?" he repeated, surprised.

"Yes," she replied, sighing a little as their lips met again.

"Since the first time we met?" he asked her, as they broke apart a little, her arms draping comfortably around his neck.

"Practically," she replied, "Since the first time you said something terribly inappropriate to me and that charming way of yours."

He smiled in disbelief.

"I thought you never paid any attention to me," he told her.

"I tried not to," she replied, "I tried to not to let you find out."

"And now you're just telling me?" he asked her, "Just like that?"

"Yes," she breathed. She was watching his lips intently, she was not listening to what he was saying.

He kissed her again, this time his lips running away from hers, across her forehead, under the line of her hair. His arms hold her gently and she sighs in contentment.

"Do you want to spend the night here?" he asks her.

She hums ascent against his lips.

"I should be able to fit you up in the spare room."

She laughs harshly and pounds his chest once with her fist. He laughs too and moves him hand to hold hers, rocking her softly where they stand.

"Didn't you once say something about a bath?" she asks him.

He meets her eyes and sees that she is in earnest.

"Possibly," he replies, "What exactly did you have in mind?"

She takes his hand with a truly arresting look that he thought he would never see in her eyes again, particularly not directed at him, and thinks for a moment that there might be something in the suggestion that he is the luckiest man in the world.

"Come on," she tells him quietly, but very confidently, "I'll show you."

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	2. Chapter 2

**Of course it's not a oneshot. Some people asked me to continue, so I did (as usual). Hope you like it.**

She woke up next to him, both lying flat on their backs, her hand draped out at her side and lying across his midriff and trailing down towards his groin, her face turned to the side and buried against his arm. Neither of them was wearing a stitch of clothing, but her hair seemed to have fallen about every where, down over her own shoulders and onto his chest.

"Hello."

She started a little, not having realised that he was awake too, and then laughed at herself a little when she had calmed down. He smiled at her, and planted a single kiss on her forehead.

"How are you?" he asked her, turning onto his side and propping himself up of his elbow to watch her as she lay back down.

"Alright, actually," she replied, "What time is it?"

"Four o'clock in the morning."

"Really? But it's so light?"

"It's the way this room faces."

"Oh, yes. Ours faces the other way."

There was a silence at her acknowledgement of her real home, where she would usually be now, her other life.

"Do you wish you were there now?" he asked her softly, not at all accusingly but with a gentle intensity that let her know the matter was weighing on his mind.

She paused for a moment.

"No," she answered, "I don't _wish _I was. I may feel as if I ought to be there. But I don't wish I was," she turned her head and kissed him tenderly on the chest, just once, "I'm quite happy here."

He smiled at that. They lay quietly for a few minutes, him watching her all of the time.

"It's not healthy, you know," she told him.

"What isn't?" he asked.

"Your obsession with me," she replied, with a hint of a smile, but seriously nonetheless.

He laughed quietly and deeply.

"Didn't you realise before now?" he asked her.

"No," she told him bluntly, "I had no idea."

And it was true, she really hadn't. She didn't know how much he-... She swallowed hard and felt her heart increase in pace just thinking about it. All evening, all night, he hadn't stopped kissing her. He held her body close to his as they lay together, sated but at the same time still excited, in the bathtub, touched her with a tenderness which made her whimper, dried her body, carried her to his bed and made love to her again, with a passion she had not felt in years- which she wasn't sure she'd ever really felt. She had lost count of how many times he'd made her climax. She had cried at one point, begging him, begging him to help her escape from this delicious torture, begging him for more, begging him never to stop. All the time, he had drunk in the sight of her, adoring her with his eyes, in a way she knew she had never, never felt before. Nothing had ever been like this before.

She had never thought she would obsess a man like Paul, a man who had everything, who truly could have his pick of women, and more often than not did. She would never have believed it. But it seemed that it was true, if the way he was looking at her now was anything to go by.

"What?" she asked him, with a wry, contented smile.

"I was just thinking about something," he told her.

"What?" she pressed.

"I don't quite know how to as you," he admitted, "I'm not sure if this is the right time."

She snorted a little.

"If it's something you can't ask me now, I don't think you'll ever be able to ask me it."

He smiled, acknowledging that this was probably a fair point.

"I was wondering if you might see your way to coming back?" he asked her, "Or never leaving."

There was a silence. Her face was serious, watching his. He could tell he had surprised her, possibly moved her, and that she was thinking very hard. He smiled a little, trying to lighten her up a little.

"On the subject of my unhealthy obsession with you," he added, as something of an afterthought, and it worked, it did make her smile a little bit.

"Paul," she asked him after a moment, "Just tell me one thing. What would you want with me? I mean _seriously_, tell me. What would the luckiest man alive want with _me_, of all people?"

He watched her for a few seconds, not quite able to believe that she had said that. His smile grew a little incredulous.

"What's funny about that?" she asked him.

"Oh, Ann," he murmured, sinking down to lie flat beside her, at her level, his hand brushing her bare stomach carefully, "You don't realise, do you? As far as I'm concerned, the luckiest man alive is the one who's with you. That's why I want to be with you."

She stared back at him, not knowing what to say. He thought for a moment he saw tears in her eyes.

"Oh," she whispered after a moment, "Oh."

Their lips met in tender, passionate, careful kiss which lasted for minutes. She cupped his cheek tenderly, and rested her face beside his when they broke apart.

"Give me time, Paul," she asked, "Until everything is sorted with Martin, one way or another. Please just give me time."

"Of course," he murmured in reply, "However long you want. I'll wait for you until you tell me."

**Please review if you have the time. **


	3. Chapter 3

**I'm not 100% where this is going and I'm not sure how much more you want, so I thought I'd just go with it. Hope you like it.**

"Paul. I've decided to give it a try."

He sat still, looking up at where she stood in the doorway to his sitting room, her shoulder resting against the door frame, making her look a little bit shy. He had given her a key to his front door, should she want it, and she had let herself in. Putting down the newspaper he had been reading, he stood up; taken aback by the fact that she was here and what she had said. He needed to be sure.

"What?" he asked.

"Us," she told him, "I want to give us a try."

They stood there, metres apart, for a few moments, staring at each other, neither quite able to believe what she had just said. And then all of a sudden they were together, and in each other's arms. He pressed his face into her dark hair, inhaling her warm and familiar scent and felt her arms tight around his middle. Their bodies were pushed close together and suddenly his heart was hammering, pounding against his chest as if trying to get closer to hers.

"What about Martin?" he asked quietly, only half caring in this moment, because she was finally here with him, and she was telling him she was going to stay.

"I can't go back to him," she replied in a low voice, "I just can't." There was a moment's pause. "I tried to tell myself it's because of what he did. But the more I think about it, the more I know it's because of what _we_ did, the way we were together. I can't forget it. I think about it all of the time."

Her voice had chanced, it was higher, somehow hitched, and a little fraught. He thought he heard a tremble in it.

"Paul," she whispered, looking up at him.

"What?" he met her eyes.

"It's you I want now."

He pressed his lips gently down onto her forehead.

"It's always been you, Ann," he murmured into her skin, pressing his arms tightly around her body, holding her there.

Their lips met, so softly at first, tenderly, chastely; and then their kiss deepened and they sank further into each other's arms, kissing as if their lives, their very beings depended upon it. She had her eyes closed. They broke apart, breathless, her face resting up against his chest. Gently, he slipped away, down her body until he knelt before her, burying his cheek against her stomach, and then he looked up at her, to find her beautiful eyes open, and peering inquisitively down at him.

"What are you doing?" she asked, a smile on her lips.

"Whatever you want me to," he told her, "If you want me to be asking to marry you, one day, then that's what I'm doing. If you want us to move away from here, then I'm offering to do that. Whatever you want."

Her lips fell open, parted in shock.

"Paul..."

He definitely heard the hitch in her voice now, and he saw tears in her eyes.

"Ann," he murmured, burying his face in the soft flesh of her middle, "My darling."

"One day, Paul," she told him quietly, bending a little to kiss the top of his head, "One day I would like to."

His arms wrapped around her hips. He sighed in contentment.

"Ann," he whispered, "Do you know what I want to do now?"

"What?" he guessed from the tone of her voice that she had heard the deep murmurs of desire in his.

Letting go of her waist, his hand slipped to her leg, running upwards and under the hem of the dress she was wearing, flickering quickly up her knee and the inside of her thigh.

"Is this alright?" he asked.

Her eyes had fallen shut again, and her mouth opened in gasp.

"Oh, Paul..."

**Please review if you have the time.**


	4. Chapter 4

**I was told I couldn't leave it as it was so I've written a final- rather smutty- chapter to finish off.**

Her head lolled downwards and her eyes opened a little, their centres dark and full of want as his hands moved further up her legs, grasping her knickers between his fingers and pulling them down a little way. She gasped again as he touched her, pressing one finger between her folds, opening her up slowly, delicately.

"Paul," she moaned again, gripping on to his shoulders, "Paul, I can't stand up. My knees have gone."

"Do you want me to stop?" he asked her, slipping his finger away just an inch so he was no longer touching her there, smiling up at her rather impishly.

"Don't you dare," she told him.

"Alright," he told her gently, "Alright. Just hold on."

First drawing her knickers down her legs and off, his arms hugged the top of her thighs and her bottom, taking her weight and supporting her completely.

"Paul," her voice came again, "Don't you think we should move?"

He shook his head against the skin of her thigh, lifting her skirt carefully.

"I want you _here_," he told her, "I'm going to have you _here_. Put your leg on my shoulder."

"What?"

"Go on. Trust me. Just do it. It's alright. I've got you."

Only a little hesitantly, she parted her thighs, resting the crook of her knee just over Paul's shoulder so her legs ran languidly down his back. His arms circled her tightly, supporting her bottom and her lower back. Her skirt was bunched up around her waist; she was completely open and bared to him as he sank his head ever so slowly into the parting of her legs.

He ran his tongue between her folds, and she gasped, keened, grabbed his head roughly with her hands and held him to her as tightly as she could. Her hips bucked forwards against his mouth and her whole body shook. He did it again. And again. And he took her nub between his lips, and sucked, rolled his tongue around it. He lapped at the wetness pooling at her opening, pushed his tongue gently inside her to taste her properly. Her leg was shaking violently on his shoulder. She came with his mouth still on her, she came into his mouth.

"Paul," his name escaped her lips in a long lustful sob, "Paul. I-..."

He seemed to know what she was saying better than she could say it. Paul, this is wonderful. Paul, I can't stand any more, I can't stand up. Paul, I love you. What have you done to me? His arms took control of her- lost in an undulating, frantically rutting abyss of passion- and lay her down on the floor; taking her in his arms and kissing her forehead as she rocked against him. Gently undoing the buttons of her blouse, fondling her breasts, slipping one hand back under her skirt and just rubbing his hand in a firm circular motion until he make her come again. She curled against him, shaking, undone.

This time he waited for her to calm down. Waited for her to look up into his face again, her eyes shining and her face flushed. They kissed tenderly, achingly slowly.

"Your turn," she whispered against his mouth, meeting his eyes in a gentle smile.

**End.**

**Please review if you have the time.**


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